


Guilty Pleasures

by jolecia



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 21:37:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16941192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolecia/pseuds/jolecia
Summary: George is determined to get an early start on his work. Elizabeth, however, has other ideas.





	Guilty Pleasures

The bedchamber was filled the half-darkness that came shortly before dawn when George stirred from his slumber, blinking away the tiredness in his heavy lids as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. The fire, lit the previous evening to keep the cold at bay, had long since fizzled away into fading embers in the grate, and with its loss had come a sharp chill which sent an involuntary shiver through his form, his bare skin exposed to the frigid air from the waist up. He remembered drifting off to sleep warm and sated, Elizabeth’s soft form pressed against him, and he turned his head, searching for her instinctively. She must have shifted in her sleep, for she now lay with her back to him, the sharp contrast of her dark hair against her white skin clear even in the semi-gloom. Carefully, he reached out and brushed his fingertips along the curve of her arm, feeling the slight roughness of gooseflesh under his touch. He allowed his hand to linger at her shoulder, before leaning down to brush a soft kiss against her temple, and pulled the blankets fully over her sleeping form. She gave a little sigh at the sensation, but did not wake.

A little reluctantly, he pulled away from her, groping blindly for his dressing gown where it lay draped over a nearby chair. He tugged it on, wrapping it tightly around himself to ward against the cold, and slipped out of bed, shivering slightly as his bare feet made contact with the floor. Though he found himself oddly hesitant to rise early this morning, he knew that it could not be helped. With the running of Cardew and Cusgarne as well as Trenwith, alongside the Bank and its various business interests–ever more in demand due to the war with France–there was a great deal which required his attention and he could not afford to ignore it, no matter how much he may have wished to remain in bed with his wife.

Quietly, so as not to disturb Elizabeth, he padded over to the window and pulled back the heavy drapes an inch or so. Cornwall was in the grip of midwinter and with it had come a pristine white blanket of snow covering the grounds of Trenwith and beyond that as far as the eye could see. It had been snowing for near a week. Even now, the beginnings of sunlight just beginning to creep across the sky were obscured by flurries of fat white flakes spiralling down to the ground, ready to disrupt the county’s travels even further. He himself had not ventured out since it had started–he knew Elizabeth worried about the dangers of travelling alone in such conditions–but there were some things, unfortunately, that not even the snow could delay.

He let out a soft sigh, letting the drape swing closed once more and heading over to where his clothes had been strewn the previous night. Bending down, he plucked his rather crumpled shirt and breeches from the floor before searching for a new pair. He slipped into them quickly, shivering as his skin was once again briefly exposed to the cold of the room, and he had just perched on the end of the bed to pull on his stockings when he felt long fingers close gently around his wrist, stilling his movements.

“George, surely you are not planning on leaving me alone in bed so early in the morning?” He could only assume that he must have woken Elizabeth, for she now sat upright behind him, the sheets bunched up at her waist and her dark hair trailing over the bare skin of her shoulder and chest. Even in the shadow of the room, she looked like a goddess from a painting, her expression half pleading, half teasing, and he swallowed at the sight, unable to meet her eyes.

“I’m afraid that there is much which I must do today, my dear, and it would be remiss of me to neglect it overlong,” he replied, turning back to face the opposite wall–reluctant to rise as he was, he feared that the sight of her would quench any desire he had to get anything done. “I did not mean to wake you.”

Elizabeth tutted affectionately.

“Well we are both awake now,” she chided him gently, though there was no real reprimand in her voice. He felt her fingers brush against the sensitive inner skin of his wrist, before pulling away. He barely had time to feel disappointed at the loss of the touch, however, before an arm snaked around his waist and she pressed flush against his back. Unable to stop himself, he gasped at the sensation. “I doubt the bank ledger shall object to another hour of your absence. I on the other hand…”

She pressed a soft ghost of a kiss to the skin behind his ear, and a shiver ran through him at the whispering touch. It was clear she was in a playful mood this morning–something, he had noticed, which the snow tended to bring out in her.

“And I doubt that the bank ledger has any particular opinion on my presence, or lack thereof,” he replied, his voice a little higher and thinner than usual, “but it requires my attention nonetheless.”

Elizabeth’s attention had turned her attention to the bare line of his throat, exposed by the open collar of his shirt, his pulse dancing under the press of her full lips, and without meaning to, he tilted his head back so as to lean into her touch. She was so warm compared to the coolness of the house, and his will to rise early was rapidly draining from him with each touch of her lips against his bare skin.

“I have duties to which I must attend–” he gave one last feeble attempt at protest, somewhat undermined by the slight tremor in his voice. She hummed quietly against his neck before tilting her head to nuzzle against his temple, and he had to bite back a whimper at the sensation.

“And what of your husbandly duties?,” she murmured, her breath ghosting over the shell of his ear. “Do they not require your attention too?”

The hand that was resting at his waist slipped under the hem of his shirt, fingertips stroking over his ribs and up to his chest. With a soft groan, he allowed himself to relax into her embrace, head turning to press his cheek against hers. He knew that he shouldn’t. He had work which he needed to do–work which his younger self would have scoffed at the thought of neglecting in favour of anything, had the circumstances not been truly dire–but here in this darkened room, caught between her cool fingers and her warm lips, all he could think of was her. She seemed to have sensed his decision, for when she pressed a gentle kiss into his rumpled hair, he could feel a triumphant smile curving on her lips.

“Well then, my love,” she whispered, “will you stay with me?”

“Oh, Elizabeth,” George replied, his words coming out slightly breathless, “how could I ever refuse you?”

She kissed him then, deeply, her lips warm and sensuous against his own, and even in the knowledge that he would have to work harder that day to compensate for the lost time, folded in her warm, gentle embrace, he could not remotely bring himself to regret it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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